


In Light of Darkness

by TheKnightess



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnightess/pseuds/TheKnightess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Part 1) <br/>Everything is finally settled after the Khan fiasco, and The Enterprise crew is ready to get back out there, no one so much as Kirk, but some would dare to say that Jim isn't quite normal, not after his death. When presented with a new mission, Jim is all for it, but before warping back into things, he is presented with some tragic news. He really isn't "just fine", and Spock is determined to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Light of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 1! Part 2 coming soon, if y'all want it ;)

The fog was thick and unrelenting among the sheets of rain that flung themselves against the high windows of the New Habitations and Species Investigation Labs division of the vast Starfleet campus, pounding loudly just an inch of glass away from the smooth complexion of Commander Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Here only by request, the exhausted Vulcan turned his back on the dark evening sky to face the bustle of science doctors and assistants behind him.  
“Believe me, Commander,” Piped up the tallest and oldest doctor nearest him, dark grey hair disheveled and sticking upwards in the spot he’d hastily pushed up his lab goggles upon Spock’s arrival. “If I had realized the late hour I most certainly wouldn’t have asked you to join us, pardon my disturbance.”  
“It’s quite all right, Dr. Louis,” Was the Vulcan’s polite reply, “What is it that you need of me?”  
The bustle of humans around him seemed to accelerate in speed when Dr. Louis exclaimed loudly, “Yes! The Lab report!” Spock did not understand the need for sudden haste until several assumed assistants came whizzing by the old doctor, handing him bits of papers and finally, a PADD. Dr. Louis chuckled, “Sorry for the mess, we’ve been working on this for ages.”   
Spock’s only emitted any sign of life when the PADD that had been handed to Dr. Louis was passed to him, and once in his hands the Vulcan turned his gaze down to the bright screen.   
“My team and I have been looking over the report and data from the Skylon’s scout team.” Began the doctor, who’s eyes were flashing from Spock to the screen and back up again rapidly. Spock could feel them on his downturned face. “I trust you’ve heard about this one, we’ve been on it for weeks when-“  
“Excuse me, Doctor,” Interrupted Spock, whose dark eyes had flicked up to the man’s face, “I do not believe I am familiar with the Skylon’s mission.”   
“Oh!” Dr. Louis grinned at him, “Oh, it’s quite a mystery, that one. But who doesn’t like a challenge? Captain Fangarr took her out to Deep Space 8, just on a routine perimeter scout, you know, collecting space matter and the likes,” Spock’s gaze did not waver nor did his expression change. Dr. Louis plowed on, unperturbed. “They came across this giant meteor, we’re talking one bigger than Patichor, out on the border towards 9 after a few weeks- only it wasn’t a meteor at all, but a ship!”   
Spock’s reply missed hardly a beat. “The only documented species who’s ships inhabit Deep 8 besides the humans, that we have record of, are the Klingons and the Romulans..” Spock’s tone did not dampen the doctor’s spirits.  
“Oh, yes!” Squeaked the man, “But this ship wasn’t Klingon or Romulan. And it appeared completely empty. They ran several scans, actually. Tried to communicate and even raised their shields to rile up a reaction. Nothing! That’s when they sent over a team to investigate. It was completely intact, no make or model we have record of, to make it stranger. The only evidence of matter found anywhere onboard was a dark brown, nearly-jelly-like substance that appeared in great puddles around the ship. They took samples and coordinates, the usual, and brought it back to us.” The doctor beamed at Spock. “We’ve been trying to crack the code on this brown stuff for weeks,” The doctor reached his hand over to the PADD in Spock’s hand and flicked his finger towards the left, enlarging a picture taken of the brown substance, which looked most unpleasant, and then flicked his finger over again to bring about some sort of diagram to the screen, which then sprang up into pixels above the screen for Spock to see more clearly, spinning on an invisible axis.   
“It bears no resemblance to any DNA structure we’ve studied so far,” the doctor explained, and Spock realized that he was looking at a DNA diagram that appeared to have been made by someone with significantly poorer motor skills than anyone in Starfleet.   
“That explains the quality of the diagram.” Spock noted mildly.  
“Yes sir, but its not that we haven’t been faced with something like this in the past,” Louis said quickly to the scrutinizing Vulcan, “Our only problem is that the substance didn’t come from a planet we can study, just from a ship. The team didn’t have time to run an origin diagnostic on the ship, or the time to figure out how the hell to work the bridge.”  
“I’m not sure how I can assist with this, Doctor,” was Spock’s reply, “While I am trained in xenolinguistics and have extensive knowledge of the biological makeup of several hundreds species, there is little I can do here with this diagram that you haven’t already.”   
“Oh, of course, Commander!” Said the doctor; “I was actually hoping not to have help with the decoding of the sticky stuff, but rather to have access to the ship itself or, even better, samples directly from its birthplace.”  
“You would like me to contact Captain Kirk.”  
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Louis’ voice dropped down a notch in volume, low with intensity, “If we could get another team back out there and get an extensive diagnostic of the ship and, perhaps, even a hint as to what part of space it comes from, we could take much bigger steps in figuring out who inhabited the ship, where they are now, and even if they’re a possible threat to the Federation.” There was a pause before the doctor finished with, “Think your crew would be up to it?”  
“While I’ll certainly have to clear the mission with Captain Kirk and Admiral Black, I believe we can arrange it, yes,” Replied the Commander, and with a nod of departure, Spock handed the PADD back to Dr. Louis and exited towards the cabins.

*

As ready for much-needed rest as ever, Spock knew that Jim would like to know of the mission proposal sooner than later, and even at the considerably late hour, the captain’s night would be far from over. Passing rows of doors, Spock entered the elevator and made for the eighth floor.   
Passing floors at leisure, the Vulcan Commander began the contemplation and processing in the back of his mind the new information he’d been presented. Obviously, there was something out beyond conceivable space that has not yet come to the Federation’s attention. This was not surprising news, as the universe and beyond is bigger than any scientist has been able to map. Still, this matter is not one that should be weightless within Starfleet.  
Logically, it’s safe to assume that, as the culture, customs, and structural details of this undocumented species is completely unknown, the fact that they are not inhabiting their ship at current could be completely acceptable.   
Perhaps they can withstand the forces of pure spacefield, and decided to part from their ship in search of sustenance. Perhaps they fled upon arrival of whatever organism had turned into that brown substance. Or, perhaps, they are the brown life-resembling organisms aboard. It is possible that they are like the Gu’t’aung, who exist only until they reach just barley post-adolescence (about 140 years), and then simply dissolve into a biodegradable puddle of their own flesh, upon which their young will either emerge from or feed off of. This could very well be the onboard substance. In fact, it was entirely possible that these mystery entities are relatives to the Gu’taung tribes, similarly as Vulcans share a common ancestry to Romulans.   
Whatever the correct answer, it is absolutely imperative that Starfleet be made aware of this potential new threat to the Federation as quickly as possible, and how to eliminate them- if necessary. It is only this way that the Federation may insure space’s safety. 

*

It took barely an alert buzz at Jim Kirk’s door from Spock before it came whooshing aside to reveal Kirk, fully dressed, glasses and all, grinning from behind a softly glowing PADD.   
“Heya, Spock,” He said in welcome, and moved aside to invite the Vulcan inside. “What brings you to my humble abode?”  
“I was called into the Habitation Labs only fifteen minutes ago.” Spock told Jim, accepting the small glass of Vulcan Ale that had been offered to him. “I was requested by Dr. Louis.”  
“Old Louis? Does that guy ever go home?”   
“Unknown.” Spock replied, and allowed a small smile to pass over his lips before continuing with, “I trust you have heard of the Skylon’s journey to Deep 8?”  
“Yeah, I read something about that. What about it?” Spock had taken a seat in one of the armchairs near Kirk’s desk, and the captain sat opposite him in his swiveled desk chair. As Spock spoke, Kirk took sips of his Ale.  
“Since encountering the foreign ship and collecting data from it’s interior, Dr. Louis and his teams have concluded that there is insufficient evidence to tell Starfleet what inhabited it before the Skylon’s crew had come across it. The creatures had only seemed to leave behind a brown-colored substance that gave the Lab only enough to construct a poor diagram of what vaguely resembled a DNA strand.”  
A moment passed before Jim answered with, “But what does this have to do with you?”  
“I was unsure until Dr. Louis stressed the need for more samples from the ship and it’s possible point of origin. He requested that I speak with you about taking the Enterprise into Deep 8, finding the ship, and trying to decode enough information of its birthplace to find some sort of conclusion.”   
Jim leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on a point above Spock’s head. Either the captain was daydreaming, or this was a great point of conflict within him, judging by his expression and the amount of contemplation he seemed to be in the middle of. Spock could guess immediately that this new stage of reluctance had stemmed from the past year’s tragedies during Kirk’s captaincy. It was perfectly understandable that he be so apprehensive now to be rash about where he led his crew, and it was almost admirable, considering how early insane Kirk had seemed to Spock in past years.   
After a few moments, Kirk’s expression relaxed slightly, and his eyes focused back on Spock. “I’d say it’s worth a shot.”   
“I, too, thought something similar of the situation.” Was Spock’s prompt reply, and Jim nodded, but it was cut short when a brief grimace cut into the captain’s expression.  
This did not go unnoticed. “Jim?”  
Jim shook his head and lowered his gaze to his unfinished Ale, the raised it back to Spock. “Per protocol, this’s gotta go through Admiral Black.”   
“I do not need reminding of protocol, Jim.” Spock told Jim rather gently, keeping ‘it’s you who usually needs the reminders’ to himself.  
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jim retorted with a grin, “I know you don’t. And I know you don’t need to be reminded of how much Admiral Black likes seeing me around the halls after all the shit I’ve gotten in and out of, right?”  
“And you are worried of his denial?” Inquired the Vulcan, after his modest sip of Ale.  
“Well,” Breathed Kirk wearily, leaning back in his chair again, “I really don’t know what he’ll say. He’ll probably put of a good fight- you know how good he is at arguing and shit talking. There are plenty of other ships, too, that are perfectly equipped to get out to 8-“  
“The Admiral is not the only member of the ruling council, Jim. There are many other officers who I’m sure would make an excellent case in your defense. You haven’t done anything permanently damaging to your record, nothing that wasn’t overlooked after your saving of an entire Starship.”   
Jim’s eyes flickered upon Spock’s mention of their previous space engagement, only 6 months prior. Jim looked back down at his Ale, and then drained it in one final swallow. Grimacing for a moment against the mild burn in his throat, Jim took another moment to stare off into space again, something the commander had noticed happened more frequently than before. Then, he spoke.  
“All that being said, it’s going to be one exhausting week.” Falling back on his good-natured grin, Jim looked back at Spock; “I could sure use my first officer in that briefing room.”   
“It would be my honor, Captain.” 

*

By the time Kirk’s departure request had gotten to the Admiral’s attention, three days had gone by. A council meeting was finally set for Thursday, a time that Jim began to dread.

“Good afternoon, Admiral, Council.” Jim greeted the half-circle of officers merrily upon arrival, flanked by Spock, who gave a nod in shadow.   
“Captain Kirk,” Admiral Black’s voice rang out authoritatively, his thick cheeks spreading to make way for a false smile. “Always a pleasure.”  
“I’m sure.” Jim said innocently, nodding and smiling to a few other officers as he took his seat with Spock, but the commander did not miss the note of sarcasm hiding beneath the cheerful façade. Spock could only hope the meeting would go as smoothly as possible.   
“If you don’t mind, Captain,” Black said dryly, peering down at the papers and PADD before him. “I’d like to get straight to the business. I see you’ve put in a request for a scout mission. Care to elaborate?”  
“Certainly,” Jim told the Admiral promptly, “Commander Spock was requested by Dr. Louis of the New Habitation and Species Investigation Lab on Sunday night on behalf of the Skylon scout mission that took place on the 22nd of February. It seemed that their limited data from the unknown ship in question in Deep Space 8 yielded insufficient results for a full report of the species and origin of the ship or the mysterious substance on board. After weeks of testing, it was concluded that a more extensive investigation of the ship would be adequate per Federation requirements. Mr. Spock was requested so Dr. Louis could ask for our assistance. After a full explanation of the request, the commander came straight to me, and after much thought, a scout mission request was deemed appropriate.”   
Spock couldn’t suppress a feeling of relief, and even surprise. It may have even flickered in his expression, how grateful he was that Kirk had put together such a well-researched case for himself in such a short amount of time. It seemed he had gone to see Dr. Louis himself, and had polished on his knowledge of the Skylon’s mission. The more fact and formality about this, the better.  
Admiral Black’s expression had remained perfectly passive; nothing that Kirk said had any effect on him outwardly. When the captain had finished speaking it was apparent he already gained support from some of the officers, who found themselves nodding along with his words. It was, thankfully, a promising beginning.   
“Captain,” Black responded after a pause. “Are you sure it’s wise to fly the Enterprise out into the deep so soon after her last struggle back to Earth?”   
“The Enterprise was fully repaired and given the ready to return to space about three months ago, Sir. I don’t think it will be a problem.”   
Brow furrowed ever so slightly, Black’s eyes slid between Spock and Kirk, and then down to his documents. “And your crew, Kirk?”   
“Sir?”  
“Your crew, Captain. They underwent quite an ordeal not long ago. Do you find it necessary to bring them back out so soon? Have they all been given proper medical and psychiatric attention?”   
“I’ve been kept updated on the wellness of all assigned to the Enterprise since my immediate health post-mission, Sir. They are all in working and scouting condition and eager to get back abroad.” Kirk was positively unrelenting. This was not surprising; Jim Kirk did have the highest IQ of his class. Naturally, he would be excellent at thinking up counter-arguments quickly- Spock knew of this first hand.   
“Yes, that’s another thing.” He told Kirk after another pause, “There is the matter of your condition as well. A ship is only as good as her captain, after all. Your medical report proves you had to undergo the most rigorous of recoveries.” The Admiral had a purse to his lips now, like a hunter coming in for a kill. This was unnerving. “Here in Chief Medical Officer McCoy’s report, ‘the patient has undergone six consecutive hours of blood transfusion post-radiation poisoning…vitals have risen and dropped between first and second transfusion, remain tentatively stable. Patient is at risk for cardiac arrest…Patient remains in comatose state for fourth consecutive week…will require psychiatric treatment’- something I see you also refused, Kirk, and ‘Patient will need physical therapy following consciousness to regain motor skills weakened during coma…’ You only re-learned the ability to walk less than five months ago.”  
Spock could tell in the slight flush of Kirk’s cheeks that the out-loud reading of his medical report had not been pleasant for him. “Yes, Sir, but have been back to duty since.” Kirk was tense now, and Spock would have liked to caution him.  
“Commander Spock, a word?”  
“Yes, Admiral?”  
“A follow-up of your time on the Enterprise has been most satisfying, of course, but there is the troubling matter of your emotional compromisation. You understand, this is a troubling case…a captain momentarily deceased, an emotionally compromised first officer-“  
Two voices spoke up at once.  
“Commander Spock was well controlled by the time he had beamed to earth and successfully detained Khan-“  
“Captain Kirk had only found himself in the position of a Captain who had made the most selfless decision to maintain the lives of hundreds in place of his own-“  
Both had spoken up without realizing they were going to. Once finished, they sat in silence immediately, but both shared a quick, meaningful look as the officers seated amongst the half-circle murmured to each other.   
Black was listening to something an officer to his right, Mr. Flu’nar, was saying in a hushed whisper, but his eyes were trained like hot phaser beams on Kirk. Spock was feeling the pang of the unprofessionalism he had just demonstrated in the presence of so many officers, but Jim was sitting in stony, stubborn silence. Spock was not surprised.  
“Captain, Commander,” Admiral Black spoke up finally, and the room lapsed into immediate silence. “You are dismissed for deliberation, you will receive our ruling at the next available opportunity.”  
Don’t have to tell me twice, Kirk thought bitterly, but only smiled and nodded as he exited, Spock on his heels, eager to get as far away as possible and maybe break something.   
“What an asshole.” Jim growled outside, when the brightly shining sun brought it’s calming warmth to them.   
“It would be wise to keep such comments to yourself.” Spock informed Jim with a sideways glance in his direction. “You wouldn’t want an opinion like that at risk of coming back to Admiral Black.”  
“You know I’m right.” Was Kirk’s only response, and Spock’s lips tightened.  
“Though not the vernacular I would use,” He told Jim after a pause. “Admiral Black was most unpleasant.”  
Jim gave Spock a ‘yeah okay buddy’ look, but moved on quickly. “I was kind of expecting this, though. That’s why I did so much research.”  
“I must say, Jim,” Spock told him as they approached the cabins, “I was most impressed by your report.”  
Jim grinned over at the Vulcan. “Are you…complementing me?”  
“Are you surprised?” Spock asked him mildly, unconcerned about his thick sarcasm.   
“It’s certainly a rarity.” Jim said, and somehow his grin got wider. It was that kind of grin that usually drew out the small answering smile in Spock.  
“Perhaps I’ll have to compliment you more often,” He told Jim as they stepped into the elevator. “If this is the response I’ll receive.”  
Kirk only shook his head, a laugh deep in his chest.

*

The next evening, Spock’s communicator buzzed him out of his meditation and back into reality harshly, and he had to pause momentarily to regain his wits before rising and retrieving his communicator.   
“Hello, Jim.”  
“Spock! Did I interrupt anything?”  
Throwing a glace towards his meditation mat, Spock answered with, “Nothing of innate importance. “  
“You say that whenever I interrupt your meditation.” Jim said with a tone that would suggest an eye-roll. “Anyway, now that you’re up, I could sure use some company. I’m headed out to the Cadet’s Bar.”  
“You would like me to accompany you while you drink yourself into a coma and search the entire town for a suitable human in which you may take home?” Spock asked him in return, which earned him a chuckle from the other end.   
“C’mon Spock, It’ll be fun,” Jim told him earnestly, “Humor me.”  
“Humor is a foreign concept to Vulcans,” Spock said dryly. “It’s illogical to assume I would be capable of such a request.”  
“Great,” Chirped the other end, “I’ll be there in ten.”

*

Approaching the bar twenty minutes later, Spock noted the unnecessarily loud music that was floating towards them from inside. It seemed that humans were avidly attempting to loose their hearing abilities before they approached middle age. The fact that Vulcans had more sensitive ears than humans only added to the effect.  
“Is it necessary for humans to listen to such loud music?” Spock asked with a look that would suggest distaste. Jim laughed.  
“Sure it is,” He told Spock through a chuckle, and clapped his shoulder. “And we don’t just listen to it, we like to feel it.”   
Spock only raised an eyebrow at Jim and allowed himself to be ushered into the bar, where they expertly maneuvered themselves around masses of people to get up to the bar counter. Spock stood besides Jim as Jim ordered them shots of whiskey- or something- and then followed him to an empty table in the corner of the bar. It was secluded from the drunken, dancing people and loud chatter. It was a place not usually inhabited by Jim.  
“You do not wish to stay at the bar and look for females?”  
Jim laughed, something he did often in place of a real response. “You know, I can keep my pants on for more than a day. ‘Sides, what’s wrong with sharing a drink with a friend?”  
Spock wished to give Jim a skeptical look, but instead he sat across from Jim at the table and caught the shot glass that was slid towards him. Jim knocked his back without another thought, but Spock hesitated with the glass between his hands.   
“Jim,” He said finally, watching Jim grimace through the burn. “How are you fairing?”  
“Fairing?” Jim gave Spock an easy smile. “I’m fairing alright. Once Black finally gets around to approving our request, I’ll be just peachy.”  
Jim was always smiling. Spock always associated Jim with optimism; it was naturally one of his traits. However, in the past, Jim always allowed a certain light to enter his eyes when he laughed or joked with Spock…but that was gone. Now his eyes only darkened when he smiled, as if the gesture was a great, tiring feat of strength. Spock drained his glass.  
“What about you, Spock?” Jim shifted the conversations away from him easily, “I see you’ve gotten around your taste for alcohol.”  
“It seems I’ve grown accustomed to it.” Spock allowed, with the small smile reserved only for Jim.  
Jim grinned back. “God, I’ve corrupted you.”  
“I think it may be something more within the lines of influence.”

*

Another day and a half without incidence. Admiral Black was either very busy or very good at acting like it, because while departure requests were usually a day-maybe-two kind of thing, Black had decided to get to the Enterprise nearly four days after that dreadful meeting. Kirk had checked his mail every hour towards the end of it, becoming more and more annoyed with each fruitless click of his PADD.   
He only realized how crazy he was being when his communicator buzzed and Bones’ voice floated up towards Jim’s ears,  
“Hey, Hermit, there’s some pretty official-looking officers here to see you. Apparently they have no idea where the quarters are. If I were you I’d head down.”  
“Thanks, Bones.” Jim told his communicator, and ran a hand over his face before standing up. Officers? At Starfleet? To see him? If they didn’t know where the quarters were, they must not be familiar with the San Francisco campus.   
Kirk rode the elevator down with a head full of thoughts. Officers. Were they here to promote him? To give the Enterprise a special mission? Were they old friends from across the country? He sure hadn’t talked to Sam in awhile. He wondered how his brother was fairing in the U.S. Army. Could it be that he was finally coming to see Jim, after all these years?  
The thought made Jim speed up, anxious now to meet the officers and figure out who they were- and what they wanted.  
When Kirk finally did make it the main building, he could see Bones’ blue uniform off towards the Medical Labs side of the lobby, standing before two officers in black. When Bones saw Jim approaching over one shoulder, he nodded and gestured towards him. The officers turned when Jim approached, and one stuck out his hand.  
“Jim Kirk?” He asked, as Jim took it. “Officer Bradbury of the Peacekeeper. This is Commander Fredrick.”  
The Peacekeeper? That was the Federation vessel his mother was stationed on.   
That must mean…  
No.

*

“One click southeast, one-fourth click two centimeters south.” Spock said in a commanding voice. The camera that projected the massive, enhanced video of the GrungTang Virus moved slightly from where Ensign Hansen was operating the microscope.   
“Our solution seems to have slowed the virus down,” She noted from her place behind the commander. The sound of pen on paper told him she was jotting down her observations. “Enough, perhaps, for the antivirus to take some sort of hold.”  
“Perhaps,” Spock told her, turning to where she sat, eyes thoughtful. “Run the next trial. If we get a similar reaction, I would suggest increasing the dosage on a fresh sample.”  
“Yes, sir,” She said promptly, and began to switch out the used petri dish, which was turning a rust color rapidly upon contact to air, with a clean one. As she worked, Spock’s PADD alerted him of mail from its place on the lab table. Peeling the gloves from his skin, he swiped a finger across the screen to reveal the new document from the Starfleet Academy Board.

Commander Spock of the U.S.S Enterprise,  
Your duel request with Captain Kirk for a routine scout mission to Deep Space 8 was considered and approved by the Ruling Board Members on March 13th at 1200 hours. You may begin preparations and notify your crew at your earliest convenience.   
Sincerely,  
Admiral Black, Starfleet Academy

“Ensign Hansen, I trust you are equipped to finish up here for the day without my assistance? I have some important news to take up to Captain Kirk.” Spock spoke up again, turning back to the young woman and tucking his PADD under his arm.  
“Oh, yes, sir!” She chirped immediately, looking entirely pleased that the Commander trusted her to such a delicate procedure as this. Spock, however, had complete trust in the woman and her intellect, and he nodded his farewell before leaving Lab 013 and turning to find Jim.   
The corridors were bright and filled with the colors of passing officers as Spock traveled the length of it to the lobby. It seemed that, finally, the weather was improving. It was obvious by the smiles around him that it did not go unnoticed.   
“Spock!”   
Turning, the Vulcan could see Officer McCoy hurrying towards him, face tensed with a mixture of urgency and…sadness? When he caught up with the straight-standing Vulcan, Spock nodded to him, sensing something was very, very wrong.  
“Officer McCoy,” Spock greeted. “I was just on my way to see Jim. Are you…alright?”  
Bones sighed heavily, running a hand over his face the way Jim did sometimes. “I’m okay, but Jim’s not.”  
Stiffening, Spock regarded McCoy’s expression. His fists immediately clenched at his sides, and he searched the doctor’s expression. “What do you mean?”  
Leonard shook his head. “Some officers from the Federation came in, were looking for him. I had no idea what they wanted, ‘till Jim showed up. Spock,” Bones looked into the Vulcan’s eyes. “Winona Kirk was killed in action. His mom’s dead.”

*

Jim did not answer his communicator or open his door at all the next day. He didn’t want the ‘I’m sorry’’s or the ‘are you okay?’’s. He just wanted to sit by his miserable self and drink until he passed out.   
That was the plan, anyways.  
Jim hadn’t seen his mother in over a year. She had been able to pop into his life right after the altercation with Nero, to make sure he was all right, to say she loved him, to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she warped back out into oblivion. When you worked for the Federation, you were lucky to see Earth once a year, and she made her visit to her boys each time.  
She’d only taken the Federation transfer to bring in more money for her boys. It meant that she’d be gone more often, but it also meant they could have school supplies and new clothes. Food on the table, even. Enough to keep Frank from drinking it all away. Beggars can’t be choosers.   
And really, it didn’t matter. She was really gone the moment that his father was. A shell of a mother left to bare the elements alone. Sometimes, though, when Jim or Sam said something funny or came home with a picture for her from school that they drew with the worlds ‘to mom, love Jim’ or ‘love Johnny’, they saw glimpses of the old Winona. Jim never got to know her, not really. It was Sam who could remember her, and he would tell Jim old stories about their mother and father well into the night   
She was assigned to the Peacekeeper, the Peace Corps of space, if you will. This meant she’d see an alien warzone now and again. Maybe even find herself in the middle of one, according to the report he’d been given from the two officers.   
It glorified her, as expected. ‘Officer Kirk was a valuable asset to Federation and space, having served a commendable and honorable thirty years to the Federation and it’s members. Her loss will not be forgotten.’  
People that Kirk didn’t know or care to signed it at the bottom. The next few pages were a detailed report of her death, including autopsy and a written letter from the captain of the Peacekeeper. Jim didn’t bother reading them. Along with the report, in a pretty black box, were her belongings. Jim didn’t acknowledge it at all at first, unable to reach a hand out and even touch it. It would make it all realer, somehow.   
Eventually, though, Jim had to do it. He had to be brave. What he didn’t have to be was sober.  
Hands trembling, he ran his fingers over the top, over the gold Federation insignia and down to the pressure-release buttons on either side, which he pressed lightly. The top sprang up with a click, and Winona Kirk’s perfume hit him like a brick wall.  
He shut the box and shoved it under his desk.

*

The funeral was set one day before their departure. Kirk had sent out notifications to his crew, and he and the other officers of the Enterprise had worked to ensure everything was in order, down to the last food replicator and back-up ration. They would head out to the space station as their final destination before Deep 8 to load everything from the shuttles to their massive Enterprise. That would be their last chance to stand in something other than a starship for the next month- at least.   
Jim was just thankful for the distraction, and the chance to finally get off the goddamn rock that Earth was becoming to him.  
His first day back after the news of his loss was awkward and stiff. He didn’t know how to act around people any more than they knew how to act around him. He got some false smiles and some ‘sorry for your loss’ statements with a squeeze of his arm or a sympathetic look, but mostly, he was just avoided. Being avoided was much easier to deal with.  
Only Spock and Bones provided any sense of normalcy. They knew him enough to respect his privacy, and knew how to keep work separate from it all. Still, Spock was stiffer than a goddamn tree trunk and Bones’ usual grimace was deeper than usual, his eyes darkened with sadness every time he looked at Jim. And every once in awhile, he’d catch Spock watching him when he thought Kirk wasn’t paying attention. It didn’t make things any easier.  
The day of the funeral, Jim spent the first half of the day drinking and trying to find his greys. It was only when his quarters was practically trashed to hell that he found them, neatly pressed and hung in the back of his closet. His hat sat on a hook besides them. Staring at the stars across his blazer, he realized just how much he did not want to do this.  
He pulled the uniform on, and a buzz sounded at his door.  
Smoothing down the front of his suit, he grabbed the hat from it’s hook and cross the room to the door, opening it for Spock, who stood in matching uniform in the doorway. The only difference in their uniforms was the number of stars across the shoulders of Spock’s, two less than the Captain.   
“Hey, Spock.” He said, moving aside to let Spock in. Realizing too late the mess of the room, he quickly moved ahead the kick piles of clothes aside. “Sorry for the mess.”   
“It is no trouble, Jim,” Came the quiet response. Spock’s eyes were not anywhere in the room but on Jim, and the thin line of his lips told Jim all he needed to know. “My only thought was that you might like company tonight to the…ceremony.”  
Jim willed half of his mouth to turn up into a poor impersonation of a smile, and he bent down to pull on his shoes. “Thanks.”  
Once he was fully dressed, he turned to lead the way to the door, but a hand reached out to touch his arm, stopping him. Surprised, Jim turned back to look at his friend, seeing sudden sympathy swimming in his gaze. “I wish you to know, before anything else tonight, that I am sorry, Jim.”  
Jim swallowed the dryness in his throat, and forced a more convincing smile and answered with a shrug and a swift, “S’okay.”   
“I do not believe that it is.” Was Spock’s muted answer, but Jim shook Spock’s hand from his arm.  
“C’mon, we’ll be late.”

*

The ceremony was nice. It was hard to say otherwise, for the Federation didn’t half-ass anything. It was crisp and organized and the speech prepared by the captain, Jim didn’t remember his name- Hassel? Heysel?- whatever, was more than just a few stiff lines, at least.   
Spock sat at his right, and Bones managed a seat on his left. Jim appreciated their support, as always, but hated the sympathy, and wished he could sit in the corner by himself. He knew they’d never allow that.  
By the time the ceremony had ended, Jim was as ready as ever to board the Enterprise and get as far away from all of this as humanely possible. Neither Spock nor Bones had any idea what to say to him, apparently, but Bones had reached over and squeezed Jim’s shoulder at the end, before he had to turn in, with a, “Try to get some rest, okay?”  
Jim had nodded and turned to Spock to give him a quick goodnight, and found the Vulcan’s gaze to be such that he could barley meet it for more than a few seconds. That was when Uhura had strode over, breaking the tension with a brief hug around Jim’s waist, which he was not excepting in the least, and a quick kiss to his cheek. He must have looked very bewildered, because she gave him a glassy-eyed smile before exiting.  
“Night.” Was all he could manage before escaping up to his quarters.

*

“Ready to warp on your go, Captain.”  
“Thanks, Sulu.” Kirk said with a smile, then turned to Chekov with a, “What’s Scotty got to say about that core?”  
“He reports zat it’s “puring like a kitten”, Keptin!” Chirped the bright young man from his chair, and Jim’s smile widened. Somehow, it didn’t reach his eyes.  
“Punch it.”

*

God, it was great to be back in space. Being here now removed Kirk from his problems, at least a little bit. Being captain of a starship like this required him to be in a different state of mind, and that helped him keep all thoughts of doom and gloom on the back burner.   
As far as everyone was concerned, Jim was completely normal. He joked with his crew the way he always did, was as bright and cheerful as ever, and just the man they could all look up to. One they all knew was the only man who could fill the shoes of Christopher Pike.   
It was only Bones and Spock who could see into the cracks of Jim’s façade. They frequently exchanged looks of doubt whenever Jim answered, “How are you today, Captain?” with, “Just fine.” They knew he must be anything but.

*

“I don’t know how to bring it up,” Bones said in a tense voice to Spock one evening in Medbay, busy cleaning up the supplies he’d had to use after a freak accident down in engineering. “Every time I try, he’s suddenly got a zillion things to do.”  
Spock’s gaze followed Bones’ hands as he wiped down a hypo-container. “I, too, find it difficult to breach the subject. Jim is not one to openly display his emotions, much like Vulcans.”  
“I used to get him to open up,” Bones said, almost sadly, pausing from his work to look up at the commander. “Back at the academy, before he started blaming himself for everything. Give him a few drinks and he’d tell you his whole goddamn life story.” Spock’s lips tightened into a line, showing his displeasure at the phrase ‘blaming himself for everything’. Bones resumed his work, placing the tools into a drawer by his desk. “We’ve gotta do something though, he’s not right. Did you see him nearly pour hot coffee all over his hand today at mess?”  
“I did notice he seemed disoriented. It appears he has not slept well in quite awhile.” Spock acknowledged. “Though if he will not relay information to you, I don’t see what more we can do.”  
“I can slip sleeping meds into his tea tonight at mess, but I don’t know exactly how I won’t be spotted.”  
“Doctor,” Spock said, “Protocol states that dishonest use of medication without proper consent of patients-“  
“Dammit, man, I’m doing it for his own good!” Bones shut the drawer harshly and spun to face the Vulcan. “You got a better idea? The man’s a wreck!”   
Spock was silent, giving Bones adequate time to calm himself down and unclench his fists. The doctor sighed heavily, and turned to walk to his office, trusting Spock to follow. Once the office door had closed behind him, he turned back around to face Spock. “Okay, Jim’s a stubborn bastard. We all know this. I can chant to him all I want, but it doesn’t even reach his brain.” He turned to his cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. “You on the other hand…”  
“Me, Doctor?” Spock addressed, quirking an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, you. Look, I know you don’t do the whole feelings thing, but if he wont listen to me, maybe he’ll listen to you.” Bones poured some of the amber liquid into the glass, and downed it promptly. He still hadn’t turned to look at the officer when he continued, “I can see the way he talks to you. He respects you, and I can tell you don’t just tolerate him, either. While I don’t have to enjoy the fact that my best friend wont hardly talk to me anymore, I still want to help the kid.”  
“Doctor, I don’t-“  
“Just try to talk to him, okay? I mean, really talk, don’t just throw protocol at him.”  
Spock opened his mouth to deject the Doctor’s comment, and realized almost too late that he was teasing him. McCoy turned to Spock with a quirk to his lips that told Spock that their days of silent ambiguity were over. Weather or not they liked it, they had to help Jim.  
“I’ll do my best.” Was Spock’s reply. 

*

It was nearly eight when Spock had arrived at Jim quarters, but as always the captain was cheerful and welcomed him with a “Hey, Spock.”   
“Good evening, Jim.” Spock greeted Jim, stepping into his quarters. “Would you like to join me for a game of chess?”  
“Chess?” Jim turned around to Spock, the same smile still at his lips. “Sure. I haven’t practiced in awhile.”  
“Nor have I.” Spock answered him, joining him at the table in the center of the first room. Jim was already setting up the chess set he kept nearby for such occasions as this.   
“Are you saying I could have a chance at beating you this time?” He asked without looking up. Spock could see dark smudges under the captain’s eyes.   
“Doubtful.” Spock told him, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “I only suggest that it may take longer to win than usual.”  
Jim had finished setting the pieces up on the three story chessboard, and looked over it at Spock with a challenging glint in his eye. “We’ll see about that.”  
Spock made the first move, per usual, and the game began. Still unsure of how to breach the topic of the real reason he had come to see Jim, Spock instead let Jim take control of the conversation. It was not like their usual chatter; Jim was distracted. It took him much longer than usual to make his move on the board, and several times he had to ask Spock to repeat what he’d just said. Raising his eyes to the rest of his quarters when Jim was unawares, Spock could see nothing out of order but for the fact that his alcohol cabinet hosted many more nearly drained bottles than the last time he’d visited. The door to his bedroom was left open, but the inside was too dark for Spock to see clearly.  
“Whoops. Sorry.” Jim’s voice followed the clank of glass falling from the chessboard to the table and the floor. His hand was shaking slightly and had caused him to knock over some pieces from the top board. He bent quickly to pick them up, and Spock leaned down to help. “No, no, I got it.” Came the reply, and Spock straightened reluctantly to let Jim scramble to replace the pieces on the board. He looked embarrassed.   
“It is quite alright.” Spock attempted to reassure the captain, and noticed that the shaking hand had curled into a tight fist to subdue it. Jim looked up in time to see the Vulcan’s gaze on it, and he moved it under the table.  
“Your turn.” He said finally, and Spock looked back into his eyes.   
“Jim, are-“  
“I’m fine.” He said quickly, almost fiercely. Not expecting a reaction that severe, Spock’s eyebrows furrowed, and he moved his hand forward to make a move on the board. He knocked one of Jim’s knights and added it to the growing collection of black pawns. It became apparent Jim wasn’t expecting the anger he had displayed either, and looked embarrassed again.   
Untrusting of his shaking hand, Jim reached forward with his left to make his next move. It was sloppy, and Spock knew he was now just trying to end the game as quickly as possible.   
“Jim,” Spock said firmly. “I am concerned for your health.”  
The blue gaze of the man before him flicked up to his face quickly. “What?”  
“I have noticed your general performance decreasing for some days now, and judging by the circles beneath your eyes I would assume that you have not been getting adequate sleep.”  
“So I have a little insomnia, so what? I’m fine.”  
“I do not believe that you are. Judging by recent events, I would say it’s completely logical for you to be feeling grief after the loss of your mother. However, It seems more like you are not allowing yourself to feel anything at all. Such action is creating problems that are becoming obvious to others around you. When Doctor McCoy asked me to speak-“  
“Oh, Shit.” Jim said with a growl, and Spock gave him a quizzical look. “Bones made you come here? Is there nothing he wont do? Can’t he just butt out of my goddamn business?”  
“Doctor McCoy is only concerned for your health, as I am. He is at a loss of how to help you. He came to me because he felt that perhaps I could.”  
“I don’t need help, damn it!” Jim told him, and stood with a harsh thud of protest from his chair, which had toppled over behind him. “What I need is for everybody to stop trying to weasel into my life!”  
Jim was standing with his fists clenched and face red. Even his eyes blazed as they stared down at the Vulcan, who remained composed and seated on the other side of the table. Spock remained silent, and Kirk’s anger began to fade as quickly as it had come. He looked away from Spock’s gaze.  
“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, and turned to rectify the chair. “I just…I don’t need help. I’m fine.”   
Spock did not speak for a moment as Jim picked up the pillow that had fallen from the chair and replaced it. Everything about Jim’s stance was disconcerting. His shoulders remained tense with agitation, but now both of his hands were shaking slightly. Spock pursed his lips. “I did not mean to offend you, Jim. It was not my intention to make you feel threatened.” He stood from the table, meeting Jim’s tortured gaze. “I am your friend, and if you believe that you are okay, I will respect that. Goodnight.”   
That night, Spock lay awake for hours, mind whirring uncontrollably. He wondered if Jim was lying awake as well. 

*

The next day harbored a strange quietness between them. Spock made sure that it did not interfere with his professionalism on the bridge, but he was not the only one who sensed the tension.   
He could not help regretting their previous encounter, but he knew that Jim had little right to be angry at Spock for showing friendly concern. Somehow, though, he knew Jim wasn’t angry- not really. He suspected he was embarrassed at his outburst, and frustrated at himself. But, as Spock had voiced, he wasn’t allowing himself to feel much of anything. He was blocking it, and it was only causing more turmoil within the captain, and the only thing he could really process was the anger. Spock was not even sure he knew what it was directed at, or about.   
When Bones approached him at mess that evening, Spock had little to report that the doctor could not already guess.   
“Dammit.” Was the grumble. “Why can’t the kid just accept he needs some help? If we didn’t give a damn about him, we wouldn’t try any of this shit.”  
“He is not thinking clearly, Leonard.” Spock chided him gently. “I suspect he has not slept properly for some time, and is not able to work through his emotions, therefore forcing them away rather than dealing with them.”  
“So what do you suggest then?” McCoy growled back at him. “Just let him waste away?”  
“No, Doctor.” Spock told him patiently. “I believe he needs time to calm down. He will have to accept logic eventually.”  
Jim walked into mess at that point, and the two went their separate ways. Spock was pleased to see that Jim and Doctor McCoy were sitting together now, which told Spock that Jim’s stiffness was not directed at the Doctor. He hoped that the ordeal would conclude shortly. 

*

A light buzz at Spock’s door roused him from his meditation. He did not know who could be at his door at such an hour, and hoped that there was no immediate emergency that he would have to-  
It was Jim. The door whooshed aside to reveal him, looking tired and sheepish, before the Vulcan.   
“Hi, Spock.” He said quietly, and Spock moved aside to let him come inside.   
“Good evening, Jim.”   
Jim did not sit down like he usually did at the small table to the side of Spock’s quarters. Instead, he stood with his back to the Vulcan, looking as if he were working up the courage to speak.  
“Spock, I-“  
“If you-“  
Two voices spoke at the same time, and died away just as quickly. Jim turned around, a breathy laugh in his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just…” He did not look up at Spock’s face. “I’m sorry. For last night. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”  
“It is quite alright,” Spock told him, eyes liquid with a gentleness Jim was not expecting. “It was wrong of me to assume that you-“  
“No,” Jim interrupted, holding his hand up. “No, you didn’t assume.”  
Spock didn’t speak, eyes searching Kirk’s face. The Captain heaved a sigh, and turned to sit in one of the chairs as the table. Spock followed, waiting for Jim to change the subject. But he didn’t.  
“I don’t sleep well. At all.” He began. “I haven’t in a long time. Not since…I died.”  
His eyes made him look years older.   
“I have nightmares. Or, I guess, memories. They’re not…pleasant.” He looked at his right hand, which shook a little as he spoke. “This…shaking thing? Its posttraumatic stress. It’s gotten worse after my mom. But I can’t even pinpoint what I’m still ‘stressed’ about. I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck happened back with that fucker.” He took a deep breath. “And if I’m still stuck with that…how am I supposed to take what happened with my mom? I don’t even have room in my brain for all this shit. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know if that’s better or worse, because either way it just gets worse.”   
“It must get worse before it can get better.” Spock told him softly.  
“That’s easier said than done.” He murmured, and sighed. “But there it is, the truth. That’s all of it.”  
Spock watched Kirk for a few moments, noticing the stressed features of his face and the dark smudges under his eyes. “When we spoke last night, you did not want to confront this. Why now?”  
Kirk stared at the fabric of the chair he sat upon, watched his fingers move over the leather. This, it seemed, was a hard question for him to answer. Why did he suddenly want to open himself to this mess?   
“Because…” his voice trailed off as he looked up at the pale walls of Spock’s quarters. There was hardly an object in this room that did not remind Jim of the dry, rocky valleys of Vulcan. Even the temperature, a toasty 85 degrees, simulated the environment that Spock was meant to live in- if the planet still stood. “Because I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like the only person in the world with this much pain all jumbled up. Because I know I’m not. There have been worse losses than mine.”  
His crystal blue gaze met Spock’s dark brown one, and Spock understood.   
“There is a saying on Vulcan,” Spock told him softly. “One cannot know peace, without fist experiencing pain. We cannot ever understand true happiness in life if we never feel the sharpness of anger, the heaviness of despair.”  
“I thought Vulcans discouraged emotions.” Jim answered, his voice cautious.   
“As my Father once told me,” The Vulcan told him wisely. “Emotions run deep within our race. In some ways, more deeply than in Humans. Logic offers us a serenity that Humans seldom experience. Peace.”  
Jim was quiet, and the way his eyes flashed like the rolling ocean told Spock he was thinking deeply about what he had just told him.   
“However, logic can only aid so much.” He continued boldly. “Sometimes, the only way to find serenity is through the pain we feel. Like the dense forests of Gaura X, the only way out is through.”


End file.
